


Scarecrow

by BlackMajjicDuchess



Series: Namesake [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Grass Country, Scarecrow - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1371754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackMajjicDuchess/pseuds/BlackMajjicDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got the idea in my head one day to bring some of the Naruto characters face-to-face with the thing they were named after for the first time. I thought it might be fun. Also accepting challenges! </p><p>Stories will be posted separately but as part of the Namesake series. </p><p>Part 1: Scarecrow. </p><p>Kakashi is accosted by a group of rogue scarecrows from Grass Country.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarecrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ishimaru_Asuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishimaru_Asuka/gifts).



> To issue a challenge, just comment on one of the stories in the series with the name you'd like to see done. The only stipulation is that it HAS to be a name that has a meaning, and it has to be a meaning that is something one can encounter. Example: Madara means "spots." What the heck am I supposed to do with that? On the other hand, Naruto's name refers to some kind of fish cake, which is something he could confront somehow. 
> 
> Kakashi Challenge from Ishimaru_Asuka
> 
> Kakashi = Scarecrow

The grasses blurred together like green demons, swaying back and forth in a macabre dance of a mocking kind of evil. They were beautiful, but Kakashi knew that it was a ruse. The tall, fragrant grasslands of Grass Country grew wild to hide their Shinobi. Or perhaps the Shinobi hid within them because they grew so tall. Either way, the Shinobi of Grass Country and its plant life might as well have been forever teammates; one shielded the other from view while the other dealt the killing blow.

Was it a genjutsu? He supposed that it was possible. The gentle, rhythmic sashay of the fronds was mesmerizing, to be sure. It was relaxing to watch the waves and waves of the tall grasses undulate across the rolling lands. And he was tired—so very tired—that the movements and the constant shush of the breeze through them was threatening to lull him right to sleep.

He’d thrown himself into mission after mission since… no, best not to think of that. Any of that. The memories were so painful that he would do anything to keep his mind off of that, even ask for the most dangerous missions—the ones that would require the most of his subconscious attention—as often as possible. He’d been working for several months straight without a break, and that was just fine by him. His Hokage—his sensei—was obliging. Minato was a good man, but in this he was foolish, though Kakashi was glad of it. He probably thought that keeping Kakashi busy was good for him, but in this he was only half right. 

Kakashi was trying to kill himself in an acceptable way. It was the only thing he could think of to do. Awake, he saw them alive and happy. Asleep, he dreamed of them broken and bleeding. It was as if their ghosts were beckoning him to join them, and as empty as he felt inside, he was pretty much halfway there already.

Often he wondered if the drive toward suicide was a Hatake curse.

Between the flitting blades of grass, he suddenly saw a dark flash. Instantly his senses jumped to high alert. He crouched down, but being in grass that was almost over his head was a blessing and a curse. He was sure they wouldn’t be able to see him—well, even that might have been sketchy, as this was their home territory—but likewise, he couldn’t see them either. His ears strained to hear over the wind.

This land was deceptively gentle. Everything about it sought to lure you into feeling secure. It was so peaceful, with its bright, happy sun and azure skies, its perfect weather and halcyon breezes… Kakashi hadn’t seen one of their rebel Shinobi in over a week. He was beginning to wonder if it might actually be safe enough to get some rest. Doing so without the support of a squad, though, was generally construed as dangerous.

He waited, but nothing happened. After straining his ears and remaining calm but ready for several minutes, he started to wonder if he had been seeing things. He was exhausted, after all. He hardly felt at all as if he were connected to his body. Cautiously, he slowly rose, so gradual as to appear as if he was not moving at all. The colors he wore and the color of his hair weren’t exactly camouflage, though, and it was a gamble. Finally, he could see out upon the plain, though just barely. There they were, eight Shinobi. He could only just see their dish-like hats and shadowed faces.

He ducked back down, heart pounding, waiting for the moment that they would strike. But several more moments passed, and they did not so much as flinch or call him out. He peeked back out over the grassland to spy them again, but they hadn’t moved. Strange. Why wouldn’t they confront him? He thought about confronting them, but to call attention to himself would be stupid. If they hadn’t seen him, they surely would then, and one against eight was not very good odds.

He decided to get closer to figure out what was going on. Returning to a low crouch, he crept slowly and carefully through the grass. Hopefully, they didn’t at that moment decide to approach him. It would be inconvenient for one of them to suddenly appear in front of him as he was sneaking toward them. He kept his ears pricked and his sight locked on the position of the enemy. He didn’t think they had seen him, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. He figured when he got close enough, he’d be able to hear some quiet conversation between them, or the brush of cloth against grass… perhaps the scuff of boots on dirt.

It was starting to truly bother him. Were they just so skilled that they could remain so motionless for so long? Were they merely waiting for him to deliver himself to them? That would be inordinately cruel, simply waiting for his curiosity to drop him right in their grasp. And yet, he needed to know.

A part of him kind of wanted it to be a trap. It would be a good way to go… swallowed by the verdant solace of the grasslands, bleeding out under such a perfect sky, dead by the hand of an enemy…

…instead of a friend.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he was close enough to see their faces. He blinked, then stood straight and tall, unafraid. Their faces were painted wood, red with overdramatized fangs and demonic eyes, faces pulled into maniacal grins. Their bodies were held up by wooden poles, driven deep into the ground, surrounded by scraggly weeds growing up from the base. Inside their regulation Shinobi outfits, the enemy was stuffed with the long grasses from nearby. Judging by the peeling paint, the worn colors of their outfits, and the sun bleach and frailty of the hats, Kakashi judged that they had been sitting in this field for at least a decade or more.

He found himself drawn to the scarecrows for reasons he could not quite explain. They just seemed so… interesting. For the longest time, he stared at the worn, fearsome face of the leader of the squad. Its arms were held out to the sides by a nailed up cross bar. His hat was held on by some ninja wire. The eyes were an intense, too-bright blue, completely out of place in the red face and malicious colors of his fatigues. Everything about his features screamed “be afraid, human!” And yet, he found that he wasn’t. It was quite the opposite, in fact. In this scarecrow he had found a kindred soul: a soft, squishy yet empty center wrapped in a mysterious yet undeniable violence.

Why were they here? There had not been a village or even a heartbeat for miles around. Perhaps there had been a village in the past that had been destroyed. Did this used to be a field where crops grew? Maybe they were used to stage an attack once upon a time, to protect someone by inflating their numbers artificially; an invader might be thrown off if, say, ten Shinobi stood strong with eight Shinobi who weren’t real. How were they supposed to know? Kakashi himself had been fooled, after all. He thought up several amusing scenarios for why they might be useful, and for the first time in a long time, he actually smiled. _Smiled_!

A strange, temporary transformation occurred. Kakashi, thrown off balance by the intriguing notion of an army of scarecrow Shinobi in the middle of nowhere, simply let go. The responsibility of the ANBU mission he was on, the deaths of his comrades, and the soul crushing memories of everything that had gone horribly wrong in his life were transiently shoved aside. For right now, he would go the way of the scarecrow. He could stand alone in a field of wretchedly tall grass as if he had been here for decades. He could look scary and be harmless. After all, if they could stand unmolested in Grass Country for that long, then so could he.

Overcome with the bone deep weariness that he had been experiencing for far too long, Kakashi sank to the ground. The exhaustion that he had been staunchly ignoring seeped in with the warmth of the sunshine. The red flare of his closed eyelids as the light tried to leak through burned the memories away. The gentle breeze of Grass Country sang a tentatively hushed lullaby, blocking out the screams of the dying. Before too long, he fell asleep, for the time being no longer caring if his mission succeeded or failed. He needed sleep, and here was as good a place as any.

Above him towered the phantom Grass Shinobi, standing vigil over the sleeping ANBU operative, a silent sentinel on a battlefield of dancing green demons. With his silent, menacing countenance to guard him as he rested, Kakashi had never felt so safe.

Perhaps life wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
